


Basic Witch

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clextober, Day 13: A Pinch of Magic, F/F, Magic, Witches, clextober19, mostly fluffy fall fun, with a little magical mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: Lexa was a witch. A real witch with magic flowing through her veins, yet she never told a soul that fact. Still, townsfolk showed up on her doorstep after dark, begging for a spell or potion, and Lexa was more than happy to lend a neighborly hand. As long as the request didn't fall outside her moral boundaries. Hexes, curses, love potions and spells. That's where Lexa drew the line.Clarke was a baker who just opened shop in the small Massachusettes town. Everyone warned her about a certain, very beautiful, frequent customer. They would tell her how scary and dangerous Lexa Woods was.But sometimes magic was a fickle little thing, and when she made up her mind, it was usually pretty futile to fight it.





	1. It's Magic

Lexa didn’t know why, but autumn, with its brisk winds and beautiful colors, made her heart soar and feel alive. It was noticeable by everyone.

Of course, they all had different ideas as to why she seemed to come alive in the fall, and none of them were because she just liked the smell of the breeze as it rushed through her open windows.

No, the people of Stoney Falls, Massachusetts all thought that her chipper attitude had nothing to do with the weather and falling leaves and everything to do with a particular holiday at the end of October. A holiday known for black cats and ghosts and goblins. Spells and curses and hexes. A holiday full of magic and witches.

Witches.

Lexa was a witch. A real witch with magic flowing through her veins as strongly as all the women in her family before her.

She never told a soul that fact, but still, neighbors showed up on her doorstep after dark, begging for a spell or potion. Some wanted luck or a cure for their unending nightmares. Others searched for a few choice herbs to help them sleep or a spell to increase fertility. Those requests were simple, easy, and Lexa was more than happy to lend a neighborly hand. For the right price, of course. A woman had to make a living.

But some townsfolk demanded darker things. Things Lexa would never agree to. Hexes and curses. Love potions.

That’s where Lexa drew the line. Agreeing to help a person with their own problems was one thing. But actively messing with someone completely unaware or unwilling was just something she couldn’t do.

So when Sammy Smith, the local librarian, rapped on her wooden door at half-past nine one October evening, Lexa sighed and set down her book. Sammy stood on her porch, arms hugged tight around her thin frame, shivering as a particularly chilled breeze swirled under the awning.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Smith?”

Sammy smiled softly, her eyes never quite meeting Lexa’s as she mumbled, “I heard you might be able to help me.”

“Depends,” Lexa shrugged and returned her smile. “I’m capable of helping a lot of people. But I can’t say whether or not you’re one of them unless I hear your problem.”

Sammy finally met her gaze after looking over her shoulder into the dark woods beyond. She lowered her voice as if Lexa’s nearest neighbor, who was a good half a mile down the road, would be able to hear her confession on this chilly and quiet night.

“I think I’m in love.”

Lexa closed her eyes and tightened the grip she still had on her door. While she had a firm stance on the love potion department, it never became any easier turning people away. She saw their desperation. She felt it. Because she’d been there before. Hell, she was still there.

But despite her empathy, Lexa took a long deep breath through her nose and fluttered her eyes open. “I’m sorry, Ms. Smith, but I won’t help you with this. Love is a powerful emotion. One that involves two people, and I will not manipulate someone’s life without their consent.”

Sammy’s eyes went wider than Lexa’s grandmother’s family saucers in the china cabinet.

“Oh, no,” she shook her head as fast as she waved her hands in front of her chest. “No, I didn’t mean- I don’t want you to-” she took a calming breath. “I get nervous. Panic might be a better word for it. I can’t talk, can’t really breathe. I don’t want you to make him fall in love with me. If I could actually speak when I see him, I might be able to manage that bit on my own.”

Lexa’s shoulders dropped as her muscles relaxed. She couldn’t hold in the smirk if she tried because Sammy Smith surprised her. And given her preternatural gifts, that was a difficult feat to achieve.

Lexa stood to the side, and with a grand wave of her hand, invited the young librarian into her home. Sammy caught her eye, giving her a grateful nod as she shuffled in out of the cold.

“Your home is beautiful,” Sammy shrugged out of her blazer and hung it on one of the empty hooks on the wall. “It’s cozier than I expected.”

Lexa took the underhanded compliment on the chin. She was used to it by now. She never gave anyone in town a reason to be frightened or distrustful of her, but they inevitably were. Witches had a bad rap. Always.

At least these days, she wasn’t likely to be burned for it. An archaic punishment that only killed innocent people. A real witch could easily sway an accuser’s mind. But that was a story for another time.

Lexa shook her head, quelling her random and depressing thoughts of witches and innocents burning and led Sammy to her office. The great cherrywood door hung open a bit, and the candlelight from within cast a flickering glow on her well-worn wooden floors. As she pushed it open and crossed the threshold, she snickered to herself.

Every single person who saw her office for the first time had the exact same reaction as Sammy Smith.

Her ornate desk, handcrafted by her great grandmother’s great grandmother, sat perfectly in between two of the largest floor to ceiling bookshelves that could possibly fit inside these walls. Behind the desk was a grand window, complete with a cozy window seat adorned with more fluffy pillows than should be legal.

The view was the best in the house. All beautiful landscape, tall deciduous trees, and the small babbling brook that cut her land in half. Even in the deep darkness of the night, the sights were breathtaking.

The bookshelf on the left was adorned with hundreds of books. Books about plants and animals, about stars and the weather. And then there were her priceless spellbooks. She hated that term, but there really wasn’t a better way to refer to her old tomes. Dozens of them. They were all handwritten, heirlooms passed down from mother to daughter for hundreds of years, and they were her treasures.

She softly dusted and cared for each as if they were alive, and in a sense, they were. A living memory of all the women in her family, and one that would grow as she added to it before passing it down to a daughter of her own.

One day.

The bookshelf on the right held all of her ingredients and tools. Glass jars filled with dried herbs grown in her garden or scavenged from the woods, and more than a few specially purchased from Arnica’s Herbs, a brilliant online shop curated by an old friend, lined the top three shelves.

She had oils and extracts, each in their own dark brown glass bottles with dropper caps. Everything was arranged in alphabetical order, not that the jars and bottles had any labels. Lexa didn’t need them. She knew from sight the agrimony from the skullcap and the marshmallow root from the vervain.

Lexa was content with her extensive collection, and she could cast eighty-five percent of her work from this little room. Her mother taught her well.

So when Sammy Smith gasped at the sheer beauty of her painstakingly meticulous assortment of magical things, she chuckled to herself, giddy with pride.

“Have a seat,” Lexa nodded towards the inviting chair in the corner. When Sammy was settled in the supple leather, Lexa turned towards her bookshelf. She ran her fingers reverently along the spines, pulling out a particularly well-loved black bound journal. “Now, let’s get started on a draft of confidence.”

*******

Clarke groaned into her perfect hot toddy, taking a deep breath through her nose to calm her irritation. The knock reverberated throughout her warm living room, more urgent than the first. As she heaved herself off her comfy couch and tossed her fluffy purple blanket to the side, she had the fleeting thought to just pretend she wasn’t home.

But as she contemplated that course of action, a familiar mess of dark brown hair popped into the small window in her door, followed by pleading brown eyes. “Clarke? Clarke? I can see you in there. Open up! It’s me, Finn.”

Clarke gazed longingly at her little nest of blankets, books, and booze that looked so lonely without her curled up in the middle of it, but another loud knock effectively pulled her from her peaceful desires.

“I’m coming!” she shouted before dropping her voice to a whisper meant only for herself. “Can’t you just wait patiently for a second? Oh, that’s right. No, you can’t. Just like you couldn’t actually wait to properly break up with your current girlfriend before jumping into bed with me. Ugh, out of all the stupid boys in this tiny town, I just had to hook up with-” 

Clarke pulled open the door. She propped a hand on her hip, striking a pose she knew exuded that ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe, and greeted her ex with a cold, “Finn.”

*******

Lexa sprinkled the allspice over her simmering potion, smiling to herself as the liquid turned from a pale brown to a deep, vibrant green. Sammy leaned forward in the leather chair, enraptured as Lexa slowly stirred the concoction over her portable single burner. 

“That actually smells nice,” Sammy murmured, leaning closer to the fumes.

Lexa nodded as she added a few drops of thyme extract. “Good. Considering you’ll need to drink this for it to work.”

“Drink it?”

Lexa met Sammy’s eyes with a stern look. Magic was not something to be trifled with. Sammy needed to follow her instructions to the tee to avoid any negative side effects. “Yes, Ms. Smith. You must drink it. Its effects are immediate and last for up to four hours, depending on your body’s metabolism. A cup full should do the trick.”

Sammy stretched her neck out further, examining the draft. Bits of roots and herbs floated all around, and even Lexa could admit that despite its pleasant aroma, it looked less than appetizing.

“You can reheat it. Then strain it as you would a tea.”

Sammy sat back again, a look of pure relief on her face. “Oh, I love tea. I can do tea.”

Lexa didn’t hear her rambles of contentment. She turned the glass jar of orris root in her hand, watching the cut herb slide around inside. The potion was good as it was, a perfect draft of confidence, but Lexa debated the extra ingredient. Orris root was most commonly used to increase communication with relationships, an ideal addition for what Sammy wanted, but it held other properties.

Orris root, when used in combination with a few different ingredients, was one of the most powerful love herbs around.

Love.

Every time Lexa even thought of the word a mental image she couldn’t help popped into her head. Wheat blonde hair that caught the warm autumn sun streaming through her bakery windows, blue eyes that twinkled when she greeted her regular customers, perfect pink lips that curled into a smile every time Lexa stumbled over her words while trying to order her weekly loaves of artisanal bread.

Clarke Griffin, town baker extraordinaire and frequent visitor of Lexa’s dreams. The woman who Lexa had fallen desperately in love with the moment she moved into Stoney Falls from the big city almost six months ago. Lexa shook her head, smiling despite the pang in her heart at the unfortunate unrequited love story she was living.

She heaved a big sigh, drawing in the aromatic fumes swirling from the hundred-year-old cast iron pot in front of her. She smirked, thoughts of Clarke still dancing in her mind, and sprinkled a few shavings of the orris root into the potion below. An extra dose of positive communication couldn’t hurt.

Lexa set the jar to the side and turned off the gas burner. She carefully transferred the opaque green liquid from her pot to the waiting mason jar. After screwing on the lid, she handed it over.

Sammy stared at her outstretched hand but didn’t take her potion.

Lexa thrust it forward again. “You’ve paid up. It’s yours. All ready for you.”

Sammy narrowed her eyes and gingerly wrapped her fingers around the glass. She gasped, and she would have dropped the jar if Lexa hadn’t kept her grasp. “It’s not hot!”

Lexa raised her eyebrows and inclined her head.

“It was just boiling. I saw it. It was boiling as you poured it in here. It’s not possible,” Sammy turned the jar over in her hands, marveling that the thing didn’t burn her.

“It’s magic,” Lexa smiled.

*******

Finn raised his eyebrows in that way that was supposed to be sweet and charming, full of playfulness and suggestion, and Clarke fought the urge to roll her eyes as she fetched the piping hot cup of coffee. She thrust it into his hands, intentionally sloshing a bit of the scalding liquid over the brim.

He dodged most of the spillage and smirked, and Clarke slowly counted to ten in her head, more peeved with her past self for ever falling for this mop-haired boy-man in front of her.

“What is it you want, Finn?” Clarke took a long pull from her now room temperature toddy.

Finn set his cup on the table between them and leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand. His puppy dog eyes that were once so warm and inviting now only pulled annoyance from the depths of her soul.

“I just came by to see you,” he cooed, reaching across the table for her hand.

Clarke pulled away quicker than a rabbit with roid rage. “Bullshit. You’ve never just come by to see me. There was always some other reason.”

“Clarke,” he smiled, all soft and sweet. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s a little late for the apology. And you don’t just owe it to me. There was another person involved in this mess.”

Finn sighed, and his smile never faltered. “But I don’t love her. I love you.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and finished the rest of her drink, wincing as the alcohol burned her throat. There was a time several months ago that she would have been over the moon to hear those words from Finn. 

But not anymore. 

That ship had sailed across the high seas, got lost in the Bermuda Triangle, and went straight to the dark depths of Davy Jones’ locker. 

Clarke stood from her chair and marched across her small home straight to her front door and pulled it open with gusto. “I think you should leave.” 

Finn sat back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. The cocky son of a bitch. “You don’t mean that. We’re meant to be together.”

“I guess I wasn’t clear enough-” Clarke gestured grandly out her front door. “Get out. Now.”

“But, Clarke-”

“Out!”

Finn’s chest heaved up and down before his shoulders slumped in defeat. He put on a damn good impression of sad Charlie Brown as he shuffled out her front door, and she couldn’t close it fast enough.

Clarke waited, peaking out the window for his car to turn the corner. Once out of sight, she slumped back into her couch, pulled the blankets around her, and opened her discarded book.

The chilly autumn wind rustled the tree branches outside, shaking more than a few leaves loose. They swirled, hitting her window, and Clarke looked up from her novel. She stared into the darkness, searching for something. She wasn’t sure what it was, just one of those feelings that pulled deep behind her heart. 

The trees continued to sway, the leaves continued to fall, and Clarke shook the feeling away, turning back to her book for a quiet night in.


	2. The Surge of Magic

The doorbell jingled, and Clarke sprinkled a tiny bit of edible glitter over her tray of half decorated pumpkin cookies. “Murphy, can you get the customer? I’m a little busy-”

Clarke glanced up from the rows of dark orange treats to find John Murphy, one of the two people she employed, deeply engrossed in piping an eerily photorealistic image of a dead tree amidst a row of crumbling headstones onto a giant black cake.

“Never mind,” Clarke mumbled to herself. She may have only opened the bakery five months ago, but in that time, she’d discovered that once Murphy was in the decorating zone, there was no getting through to him. 

She dusted her flour and edible glitter-coated hands on her white apron and made her way to the front of her shop. A familiar middle-aged woman with a loose topknot holding up dark hair peered over the counter.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Smith,” Clarke beamed her best friendly neighborhood baker smile. “Finally cashing in on that offer of a sweet treat?”

“Clarke!” The local librarian beamed. “I’m so glad you’re in this afternoon. I was hoping I’d run into you.”

“I’m here every day from, well basically dawn, until close. Except Tuesdays. That’s my one and only day off. And this Saturday for the Stoney Falls Fall Fair.” Clarke shook her head, mumbling to herself. “That’s a mouthful. Who came up with that name?

She looked up to find Sammy Smith staring at her fondly.

“Anyway, what can I get for you?” She took her place behind the glass counter and gestured towards the display of fall-themed treats and loaves of freshly baked bread.

Sammy Smith hummed as she ran her eyes along everything Clarke had to offer. She smiled, her gaze rising to meet Clarke’s. “What’s your favorite?”

“Well,” Clarke clicked her tongue. “That’s kinda like asking a mother which kid is her favorite. While I love all my babies, some I like more than others. Depending on what I’m in the mood for.”

Sammy leaned forward, her elbows on the glass, and her eyes danced mischievously. Clarke stood up straighter, a little taken aback by the librarian’s suddenly bold demeanor. 

“I think I’m in the mood for something sweet. Maybe a little spicy. With just a hint of something surprising.” Sammy slid her hand forward, just far enough for her fingers to brush lightly against Clarke’s.

Clarke clapped her hands together, both to get away from the odd touch, which wasn’t necessarily bad but was way beyond surprising, and to signal that she, indeed, had something that could satisfy Sammy’s requests. 

“How do you feel about ginger?” Clarke pulled open the glass door and picked out one of the dozens of rich dark brown cookies. She handed the parchment paper wrapped treat across the counter.

Sammy smiled, “What’s surprising about a gingersnap?”

“Well, these ginger cookies are my special recipe,” Clarke smirked as Sammy took a tentative bite. “All the usual trappings: ginger, molasses, cinnamon. But instead of just rolling them in spiced sugar before baking, I add a little cayenne.”

Sammy’s eyes flew open as the heat hit her tongue, but she then sighed, and her face did that thing that as a baker Clarke lived for. That flutter of the eyes, a satisfied little smile, relaxed shoulders, and a hum of pure indulgence.

“It’s so good,” Sammy moaned.

Clarke beamed, pure and proud. “First one’s on the house, for being my favorite librarian.”

Sammy choked on the bite of cookie she just took, her eyes widening, and Clarke rushed around the counter, placing a soothing hand on Sammy’s back as she caught her breath. 

“I’m so embarrassed. It’s just,” Sammy mumbled through coughs. “I think I’m in-”

Clarke shook her head and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Those cookies are surprisingly spicy. Happens to the best of us.”

Sammy stared deep into her eyes then, the gaze intense and full of something that Clarke didn’t understand. But before she could think about the look too much, the doorbell jingled once again, and a stiff October breeze caught Clarke right in the face as the door swung closed.

*******

Lexa froze in the doorway. Clarke stared over her shoulder, a grin on her face that hit Lexa almost as hard as the realization that Clarke had her arm wrapped lovingly around Sammy Smith’s waist.

“Hey, Lexa!” Clarke stood up straight, and after a gentle and knowing glance at Sammy, removed her arm and waved in Lexa’s direction. “Here for your usual?”

Lexa’s eyes jumped from Sammy’s red face to Clarke’s overly enthusiastic grin and back again. It was pretty damn clear she just walked in on something she shouldn’t have. 

Half of her wanted to turn tail and run right back out of the door she just entered. But deep down, Lexa was a glutton for punishment, so she plastered the kindest smile she could on her face and strolled up to the counter. 

Sammy glared, and while Lexa was more than used to the odd and unfriendly looks from a lot of the townsfolk of Stoney Falls, this one hit her hard. Sammy had left her home in warm spirits the night before. Full of hope and gratitude for the draft Lexa expertly brewed. 

She couldn’t think of a single reason Sammy, who she’d always been at least cordial with considering the amount of time Lexa spent in the local library over the years, would have any reason to stare death daggers at her. Unless… 

Unless Clarke was the object of her affection, and she just interrupted Sammy’s attempt to woo the baker. 

Lexa’s heart dropped down to the bottommost depths of her stomach. “Ms. Smith,” she started. “I’m-”

Sammy cleared her throat, and ignoring Lexa completely, turned to Clarke. “Thank you for the cookie. It was the best thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. As of yet.”

Clarke grinned and nodded. Sammy took a few steps towards the door but twirled around at the last second. She looked up at Clarke, her dark brown eyes wide, soft, and full of hope. “Will I see you tonight?”

Clarke looked up towards the ceiling, feigning a difficult decision. “I’m not one to break my plans. Of course I’ll be there.”

Sammy floated on air as she sauntered out of the bakery, and Lexa didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. Or maybe just buy that ostentatious yet beautifully decorated cemetery cake Murphy just carried out and drown herself in it to make all these obnoxious feelings disappear.

“So,” Clarke’s slightly deep yet entirely feminine and wonderful voice cut through Lexa’s downward spiral like a hot knife through butter. “I have something for you.”

Lexa smiled despite herself. “You do?”

“Well, I have something I’d love for you to taste. Give me that tried and trusted Woods’ opinion.”

Lexa laughed, and while the despair of knowing Clarke had plans with Sammy still swirled around her like a raincloud, her muscles began to relax. Clarke had this effect on her. Since the very first time she’d been within a hundred feet of the woman.

“I’m not so sure the Woods’ opinion is a trusted one. You’ve certainly heard the town talk by now.”

Clarke waved her hand in the air as if she were swatting away all the rubbish rumors about Lexa. “They don’t know what I know.”

Lexa’s cheeks reddened, and she was grateful that Clarke couldn’t see it as she ducked into the back room. She returned just a few moments later, holding a tiny piece of bread smeared with some sort of herb butter. Clarke smirked, and without a word, handed over the slice.

Lexa accepted, and as the sweet, slightly spicy aroma of the butter combined with the fresh bread hit her, she let out a sigh. “This smells heavenly.”

“Taste it. I just made that butter this morning. Special recipe for the Stoney Falls Fall Fair this weekend. Tell me what you think.”

Lexa took a bite and closed her eyes. It was perfect. She mulled the flavors around, determined to give Clarke a review she could use. When she opened her eyes, her cheeks pinked even further. 

Clarke was staring back at her, a look of pure amusement etched over her lovely features.

“Sorry,” Lexa mumbled. “It’s delicious.”

“That’s definitely something you don’t need to apologize for. Customers enjoying my treats? It’s kinda why I got into this business. I love to spread the love, you know?”

Lexa hummed, trying to buy herself some time to get a hold of her thoughts. She took a deep breath and reached into her vast knowledge gained from years of witchcraft, pulling out the flavors she recognized. 

“I love the cinnamon in this. It’s just the right amount of spice, and it doesn’t overpower the maple syrup.” She took a glance at Clarke, who was beaming and hanging on to her every word. “And the nutmeg adds a little warmth, which is nice. Makes the cardamum pop. Everyone is going to be in for an exquisite treat this weekend. The whole town is going to fall in love with you. With this.”

Clarke chuckled, and her smile was pretty much everything. “I don’t know how you do that.”

Lexa popped the last bit of bread into her mouth and delicately wiped the crumbs from her lips. “Do what?”

“You’re like the only civilian I’ve ever met who can identify all the spices I use.”

“Civilian?”

“Non-baker. Non-chef. Not in the ‘making food for a living’ business. A civilian.”

Lexa shrugged but didn’t say a word. She couldn’t exactly tell Clarke that the reason she could identify all these herbs and spices without a second thought was that been using nearly every single one of these herbs and spices for years while casting.

“You’re not going to tell me your secrets, are you?” Clarke leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand.

“I’m not ready to do that.” Lexa looked anywhere but towards the woman currently burning a hole through her soul with her gaze.

Clarke waited for Lexa to stop avoiding her, and when their eyes met, Clarke smirked. “Pity.”

The charged moment intensified, and while everything in her very being screamed to look away, Lexa couldn’t. 

Not all magic was human cast. The world at large, nature, fate, destiny, kismet. It was all more powerful than any single witch could ever dream of being, and Lexa recognized the futility of trying to fight it.

So she stayed locked in their tiny bubble, her heart quickening as every microsecond ticked by. Until Clarke sucked in a deep breath of air and cleared her throat. “Should I ring up your usual then? And throw in some maple spice butter along with it? My treat.”

“Yes, please,” Lexa nodded, not quite sure if she was relieved or saddened that their strange little spark vanished. Clarke expertly bagged up two loaves of her artisanal bread, stealing glances at Lexa every now and again.

As she worked, Lexa caved and asked the question she didn’t really want the answer to but felt she needed regardless. “So, Sammy Smith. I didn’t realize you two were a thing.”

Clarke slipped a some of Lexa’s favorite sage butter and a quarter cup of the maple spice butter into the bag and handed it over. “We’re not.”

Lexa swiped her credit card and, as casually as she could muster, nodded. “Oh, I thought I heard- You two were- When I walked in- ” Lexa took a deep breath, calming her brain enough to string together an actual complete sentence. “It sounded like you two had a date tonight.”

“Oh, that?” Clarke chuckled over the ding of her cash register. “I always go to the library after work on Thursdays. I’m a voracious reader. Especially in autumn. There’s something about snuggling up on my couch with a good book with the fire going and the leaves falling outside,” Clarke smiled longingly. “I just love it.”

“Me too.”

“Autumn or books?”

“Both.”

Clarke bit her bottom lip as she lowered her chin. “I see it,” she nodded. “You’ve come alive in the past month or so. Not that you weren’t in the summer or anything. But you’re just… you glow as warm as the colors of the changing leaves. Fall suits you.”

Lexa let the words dance on her skin. Clarke noticed her, paid attention to her over these few months, and the thought pulled deep contentment inside Lexa’s heart.

Clarke suddenly groaned into her hands. “That was way cringier than I expected it to be.” 

Lexa let out a breathy chuckle. “Maybe a little. But it was sweet, nonetheless.” She lifted her bag and offered a tiny smile. “Thanks for the butter. I’ll see you next week.”

Lexa’s eyes roamed that soft face for a second longer before turning towards the door. Her hand was on the doorknob when something told her to stop.

Lexa recognized the surge of magic, a minor premonition some would call it. It was something she’d lived with her entire life. She trusted it. And sure enough, just after she paused, Clarke shouted.

“Lexa! Wait a sec!”

Lexa turned around, intrigued as to what Clarke could possibly want. Blonde hair vanished in a swirl through the back door, only to come bounding out a few seconds later. She rushed around the counter, holding a dark orange cookie wrapped in parchment paper.

“For you,” she smiled, a little out of breath from her hasty sprint from the kitchen. “Pumpkin cookie.”

Lexa accepted the generous treat with a grin. “You’re going to go out of business.”

Clarke dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think a cookie and a slab of butter are going to put me in the red. Your smile is payment enough.”

*******

Clarke slumped down on her couch and cracked open her newly checked out library book. She was on the seventh reread of the first sentence when she finally gave up and tossed the book to the side. She groaned and pulled the fluffy blanket over her head.

“_You glow as warm as the changing leaves? Your smile is payment enough?_ Who says that?”

Clarke replayed her conversation with Lexa as if living it again would suddenly make her capable of traveling back in time to stop her past self from being the dorkiest dork on the planet. 

But of course, the world was not that kind. Magic only existed in fairy tales, and Clarke was certainly not living in one of those. Not that she wasn’t happy with her life. Far from it. Moving to Stoney Falls was the best thing she could have done for herself at the ripe old age of twenty-nine.

Clarke snuck out of her warm cocoon to grab her phone. Her mind was nowhere near calm enough to read, yet she really didn’t want to relive her cringe-inducing banter with Lexa another time. So she dialed her new best friend, wishing and hoping that she wasn’t busy.

Octavia answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Griffin.”

Clarke sighed in relief, grateful for the distraction. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain. How’s that syrup butter thing? Did you perfect it today?”

“I did. Lexa loved it.”

“Lexa? Lexa Woods?”

“Yeah, she came in this afternoon. I had her try it.”

“You should be careful around her.”

Clarke threw her head back and rolled her eyes. Not that her dramatics would have any real effect since she was, in fact, not in the presence of her conversation partner. “Not you too! What is it with this town and Lexa? All I’ve heard since I moved here is how scary she is. And let me tell you, Lexa Woods is anything but scary. She’s sweet and a little quiet. But she has this intensity behind her eyes. Like there’s this secret. And she’s just gorgeous and so smart-”

“You can’t be into her.”

“I never said I was.” Clarke didn’t need to see Octavia to know she was staring at her disbelievingly. And each second that ticked by was like a little dagger in her heart, and soon enough, Clarke dropped her shoulders and groaned, “Okay, so I am.”

“Clarke, Lexa isn’t someone- Hold on one second,” Octavia’s muffled voice echoed a faint hello, and Clarke waited patiently as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the speaker. “Hey, babe! I’ll be right there. I’m talking to Clarke.”

Clarke pulled the phone away from her ear and chuckled at Octavia’s clear lack of awareness about the level of her voice.

“You can go if you need to.”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Octavia eased her tone back to non-bleeding ears levels. “Lincoln just got home. He can wait.” 

“What? Why?” Octavia shouted again, and Clarke had just worked out that she wasn’t yelling at her when her phone began trilling. She stared at her mirrored face as she read the screen.

_Octavia Blake would like to FaceTime…_

Instead of long dark hair and the beautiful face of her friend, Clarke was met with the handsome features and brilliant smile of her best friend’s fiancé. 

“Lincoln?”

The image suddenly blurred, half obstructed by a finger, as Octavia yanked the device away from him. She was visible for only a second before Lincoln was front and center once again, this time from a considerable height. Octavia looked up to the camera, scowling as Lincoln held it far out of reach. He grinned as he smoldered up into the phone.

“Good evening, Clarke.”

“Hey, Lincoln,” Clarke chuckled. She struggled to pay attention to the conversation because Octavia was very enthusiastically leaping with all her might, arms flailing as she tried to grab her out of reach phone. “What’s up?”

“You?”

“Very funny.”

“Sometimes I am,” Lincoln grinned that winning grin of his. “Believe it or not.”

“I believe it,” Clarke nodded. She suppressed a laugh as Octavia took a flying leap this time and just seemed to bounce off of Lincoln’s muscular chest. “Octavia needs to be entertained. She can’t be all brooding and dark all the time.”

“I’m right here!” Octavia huffed, giving her best death glare right at the camera.

Lincoln upturned his nose in mild disgust. “She does brood, doesn’t she?” He turned his face fully to the camera, and his eyes glazed over with an intensity Clarke had never seen before. “Nothing like you. You are the warm kiss of sunshine peeking through a cloudy day.”

“Thank you?” Clarke grimaced. 

“Your smile is brilliant, Clarke. It’s captivating.”

During the odd exchange that Clarke hesitated to label as flirting, Octavia climbed on top of the couch. From the corner of the screen, Clarke could just make out a small body as it squatted down and leapt into the air. 

Octavia snagged the phone, and through the blurred images, and steady smacks of bare feet on hardwood, Clarke recognized the path to Octavia’s bedroom. The door clicked closed, and Octavia flicked the lock into place before steadying the phone in front of her. 

“What the hell was that?” Clarke gaped. “Did Lincoln drop a barbell on his head at the gym today or something? Because I swear that man was trying to flirt with me.”

“I have no idea,” Octavia shook her head. 

It had been a weird twenty-four hours. First Finn, then Sammy Smith at the bakery, and now Lincoln. Maybe the universe was just trying to serve her a nice dose of ‘what the fuck.’ An early trick instead of treat. 

Clarke sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m going to go now.”

“Sorry about all that,” Octavia grimaced. She looked as confused as Clarke felt, and if the narrowed eyes were any indication, Lincoln was going to be in for a rough night. But Clarke couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for him. He did openly flirt with her in front of his damn fiancée. 

“I’ll swing by the bakery tomorrow? I’m dying to try that butter now that you have it all figured out.”

Clarke nodded and plastered on her best smile. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

*******

Lexa cupped her mug, inhaling the flawless aroma of black tea and milk with just a hint of vanilla. The perfect thing to sip while listening to a favorite record and logging her latest entry into one of her family spellbooks. 

The needle just hit the vinyl, a pop of static echoing in her small home when a loud rapping burst from her door. While fall was her favorite season, it was also her busiest. Something about the cool weather and shorter days brought out people’s desire for magic. 

Two in one night wasn’t unheard of, but three was pushing it. Lexa sighed and lifted the needle from the record. She covered her mouth in a yawn as she pulled open her front door.

“Evening, Lexa.”

“Ms. Reyes,” Lexa nodded. “What can I do for you?”

Raven barreled past her and beelined to the office. She plopped in the leather chair sideways, propping her bad leg over the arm. “I ran out of that life-changing lotion potion you make for me. And call me Raven, for fuck’s sake. You’re basically my cousin. And Ms. Reyes makes me sound like a school teacher.”

“You _are_ a school teacher,” Lexa threw over her shoulder as she grabbed a few ingredients from her shelf.

Raven shrugged and snatched the half-eaten cookie resting next to her waiting teacup. Lexa raised a finger to stop her, but the words died in her mouth as quickly as they had formed. 

Raven munched happily on the last bit of pumpkin cookie and grinned, “Bread & Butter makes the best treats. Stoney Falls should have thrown a god damn parade the day Clarke opened shop.”

“She really is talented,” Lexa nodded, depositing the last few ingredients onto her desk.

“Careful there, Witchy Woods,” Raven cocked her head to the side, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “If your smile gets any bigger, I’m going to have to accuse you of being in love.”


	3. Love Combined with Magic

The crisp autumn air swirled, tornadoing orange and yellow leaves around Clarke. She pulled her jean jacket tighter, tucked her chin in her fluffy scarf, and trudged along the quaint Main Street. 

“Clarke!”

Clarke found the owner of the voice, local coffee shop owner and frequent patron of Bread & Butter, Harper McIntyre, waving hysterically from across the street. Clarke braved the chilled weather and snuck her hand out of her pocket to give a friendly wave and smile.

Harper beamed and pranced towards her. “Hey,” she giggled. “How are you this morning?”

Harper’s fingers trailed down her neck, catching in the long silver chain she always wore. She twirled her necklace in her fingers with an innocent smile.

“I’m good,” Clarke peered over Harper’s shoulder, trying to silently and politely tell her that she’d rather not stand out here and chat. “A little cold-“ Clarke stuffed her hands back in her pockets to prove her point.

“Oh,” Harper gasped and shot forward. She pulled a very surprised Clarke into her arms and began frantically running her hands up and down Clarke’s back in an attempt to warm her. “You poor thing! We’ll get you nice and toasty in no time.”

Clarke delicately shrugged out of the embrace. “Thanks,” she smiled, not wanting to offend Harper or make her think her pretty random and a little out of character physical closeness freaked her out. “But my shop is just around the corner. As you well know. I won’t be cold for long.”

“Right,” Harper nodded with a gigantic grin. “Right! We’re practically neighbors.”

Clarke cleared her throat, and with the kindest smile she could muster, sidestepped around Harper. “I’ll see you later.”

“Hey, Clarke?”

Clarke sighed as she turned around.

“I was just thinking, you and I? We should go out sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Clarke nodded. “I haven’t made many friends since I moved here. It’d be nice to hang out.”

Harper took a bold step forward and dipped her head. “No. Not as friends. I-”

Clarke held up her hand. She didn’t need to hear the explanation. Harper’s low and husky voice and the way she dipped her gaze to Clarke’s lips told her everything she needed to know. 

“Harper,” Clarke pressed a warning hand to her chest, keeping her from leaning any farther forward. “I’m flattered. But aren’t you married to Monty? Who’s like the nicest, sweetest guy on the planet? Who’d do anything for you and for whom, up until this moment right here, I assumed you would too?”

Harper rolled her eyes. “Monty is wonderful, but he’s not you. You’re the one I’m in love with.”

“Whoa,” Clarke waved her hands in front of her, shaking her head so furiously she was confident she’d give herself whiplash if she didn’t stop. “That escalated way faster than I thought it would. You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough.”

“Harper-”

“Clarke! Hey, Clarke!”

Clarke whipped around as Raven bounded down the street, which was impressive considering the significant limp she always walked with. “Raven, hi.”

Harper scowled at the intrusion, but Clarke sighed in relief. “How’re you doing?” Raven smirked, holding Clarke’s gaze intently.

“We were talking,” Harper bit out. She straightened her back as she squared off with Raven. 

“I think she’s done with you now that I’m here.” Raven puffed out her chest, and Clarke looked from one woman to the other, trying so hard to get a handle on this totally weird show of territorial behavior. 

“I think I’m done with this whole morning,” Clarke mumbled to herself as Raven and Harper continued to stare each other down. She took a step backwards, slowly extracting herself from the standoff in the street. The intensely posturing women were so caught up in their random dance of dominance they didn’t even notice her absence.

Until another voice broke them out of their stalemate.

“Good morning, Clarke!”

Clarke froze, squeezing her eyes shut, and cursing the damn world for her bad luck. This morning had gone from uncomfortable to downright unbearable in the span of five minutes. She was in no mood to fend off Lincoln’s flirting, and if his gleaming eyes and smirking lips were anything to go by, that was exactly what she was about to endure.

“Hey, Lincoln,” Clarke grimaced. “Is Octavia with you? She mentioned she was going to stop by the bakery today.”

*******

Lexa clasped her hand to her chest, rubbing at the sudden dull pain. She took a deep breath, pulling the air through her nose calmly and out just as slow through her lips.

Clarke.

Clarke was in distress.

Lexa raced out her front door, snagging her coat as she went, not even bothering to lock up. No one could cross the threshold uninvited. Magic had its perks.

Her feet pounded on the cold-hardened dirt path, crunching the dead leaves as she ran, and Lexa was eternally grateful for her triweekly running routine. She covered the mile and a half into town in nine minutes flat. 

Lexa slowed to a brisk walk as she entered Main Street. Bread & Butter was just a few blocks away, and the closer she got, the more the dull pain twanged. 

A crowd of at least half a dozen people milled about in front of the bakery front door, knocking and shouting for Clarke. Lexa turned down the alley, coming to a stop in front of an unmarked metal door. The smell of baked goods hit her, and she knew she was in the right place.

A particularly loud shout from the front echoed on the brick walls, and Lexa grasped her chest once more as the pain exploded. 

She knocked lightly.

Muffled footsteps halted just behind the heavy door, and when it cracked open, Lexa leaned forward.

“Clarke? Are you okay?”

“Lexa?” Clarke’s one eye that was visible through the opening widened, bringing that brilliant blue into focus. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I saw the crowd out front. I-” Lexa worried her lip. She couldn’t tell Clarke that she was a witch. She couldn’t tell her that magic pulled her distress through the air and deposited it right behind Lexa’s heart because she was undeniably in love with her. That was too out of the ordinary for someone with zero magical experience to comprehend. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Clarke narrowed her eye. “I’ve had enough of people declaring their love for me this morning.”

“Love for you? What-”

Lexa let out a yelp as fingers wrapped around her collar and yanked her inside. Clarke slammed the door shut, turning the lock quick as a bee. But before Lexa could ask what the hell was going on, a hand slapped over her mouth, and she heard the reason for her hasty entrance. 

A murmur grew louder and louder, almost drowned out by the cacophony of footsteps marching down the alley. The raucous crowd out front had finally figured out there was a back entrance to Clarke’s bakery. 

Fists pounded on the heavy door, followed by several muffled calls of “Clarke,” and Lexa gaped wide-eyed as Clarke grabbed her hand and led her out of the backroom and into the kitchen.

She released Lexa and rounded on her before leveling her with a cold hard stare. “I swear upon all that is holy if you tell me you’re madly in love with me right now and try to kiss me, I’m going to dump that sack of flour on your head and drop-kick your sorry ass out my storefront window.”

*******

Clarke regretted her words as soon as they escaped her lips because truthfully, if Lexa leaned in for a kiss, she would have pulled that woman in faster than lightening and not let go until they were both panting and desperate for more. 

That and the look of pure despair etched on Lexa’s sharp angles was almost too much to bear. But that anguish was gone as soon as Clarke processed it, and Lexa straightened her back and dipped her chin. The swing of moods was alarming, but the banging on the backdoor took precedence. 

Clarke stared towards the sound, her chest heaving in a sigh. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “It’s been an exhausting morning.”

“It’s okay.” Lexa’s voice was quiet and calm, but the underlying pain wasn’t lost on Clarke.

“I’m so confused. First Finn comes over telling me he’s in love with me when I haven’t even spoken to the asshole in months. Then Sammy starts flirting with me in the bakery. And _Lincoln_. Lincoln tells me that I’m the sunshine on a cloudy day. Right in front of Octavia. His fiancée. Now this-” Clarke gestured to the backdoor, the knocks still coming loud and consistent. 

Lexa stared back, her face completely unreadable. “Finn, Sammy Smith, Lincoln,” she counted on her fingers before taking in a sharp inhale. “Clarke, who else is out there right now? Who’s in love with you?”

“Lincoln’s out there, and Finn. Sammy ran up as I locked the front door. Then there’s Harper McIntyre and Raven Reyes. And I’m pretty sure I saw Nate Miller join the party just before you showed up.”

*******

Lexa squeezed her eyes shut and ran her fingers through her hair. She turned from Clarke, pacing the kitchen back and forth. There was no way. No way. This could not be happening. 

But it was. There was no denying it.

Everyone who was suddenly in love with Clarke was a person who had bought magic from Lexa in the past few weeks. 

Every. Single. One.

Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, and she didn’t hear Clarke call out to her. She didn’t stop pacing until a warm hand wrapped around her forearm and pulled her to a halt.

“Lexa! Would you calm down? Please? It’s not you who half the town is weirdly in love with.” Clarke’s eyes twinkled.

“Six people is hardly half the town,” Lexa smirked back, but while Lexa appreciated their little banter and a moment of levity, her shoulders dropped further. “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not like this is your fault.”

Lexa’s cheeks flushed, and her skin tingled with the knowledge that yes, it was. This was entirely her fault. Magic was powerful and not to be trifled with. Casting while unfocused was a terrible idea, and it was Lexa’s own mistake to do so. 

And magic, being the wicked little thing that she was, had chosen to punish not her, the one at fault, but the person who distracted her unintentionally. The person she’d been thinking about non-stop for months. The person who she was in love with. 

Love combined with magic was a powerful thing. Dangerous even. And it would appear that magic had grown tired of her pining and channeled it in an unexpected way. Simple spells for easing tired muscles turned into love spells. Potions for confidence turned into love potions. And now everyone was madly in love with the one person Lexa was.

Great.

*******

Clarke crossed her arms, fascinated by the dance of emotions on Lexa’s face. Horror, shock, disbelief, shame, sadness. It was all there, but Clarke didn’t understand why. “What’s wrong? Why do you look so guilty? Lexa, tell me what’s going on.”

Lexa’s face screwed up in pain. “You know all those rumors about me?”

“The ones about you being scary and dangerous and someone I should avoid? That nonsense?”

“Yeah, that,” Lexa choked out. “It’s true. All the rumors are true.”

At the devastating look of self-loathing, Clarke took a step forward and grabbed Lexa’s hand. “You’re none of those things. You’ve never given me any reason to be afraid of you. And you’re not dangerous. No way.”

Lexa squeezed her fingers back before slamming her eyes shut and backing away. She turned around with a new hardness burning in her green eyes. “I’m a witch, Clarke.”

A disbelieving snort escaped Clarke. A witch. Yeah, right.

“I’m a witch,” Lexa repeated, just as sincere, just as intense as the first time. “Like my mother and her mother and her mother before that. Back and back. My whole maternal line. We’re all witches. We’ve been casting for centuries.”

Lexa ran her hand along the stainless steel countertop, not bothering to meet Clarke’s eyes. Her fingertips brushed along the few roses Clarke had left out in a vase, discards from the rose-infused sugar she’d made the day before. The wilted petals weren’t suitable for Clarke’s needs, but they were still beautiful.

Lexa plucked one of the fading stems from the jar, twirling it between her long fingers. She held it out, and as Clarke reached for it, the petals sprung to life. The brownish tinge disappeared, and the bloom returned to its previous elegant crimson. The green of the stem intensified, and the damn flower looked as beautiful as the day it was picked.

Clarke snatched her hand back and gaped. 

When Lexa let go of the bloom, it hovered. The flower floated in midair, suspended by nothing, and Clarke couldn’t breathe. 

“You’re a witch.” Clarke delicately grasped the stem, bringing it to her nose. She inhaled the scent, desperate for something that made sense. It smelled exactly how she expected it to, and that small detail, the fact that a rose still smelled like a rose, comforted and grounded her.

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded, finally meeting Clarke’s eyes.

Clarke wasn’t really sure what was up and what was down. Her whole world was sideways and wonky, and she wobbled on the spot. 

Lexa’s firm grip on her shoulders startled her. “Are you okay?”

Clarke managed a nod, and those long fingers tightened and guided her to a stool in the corner. “Sit down, Clarke.”

Once Clarke was situated, Lexa handed her a cold bottle of water and put some much-appreciated distance between them. It wasn’t that Clarke wanted Lexa to leave, she just needed a moment to process that magic was real, and Lexa was a goddamn witch.

And the fact that Lexa seemed to know exactly what she needed made her heart gallop, which didn’t really help in her calming down department.

But after a few minutes of silence, Lexa spoke up. “I know you probably need more time to come to terms with who I am, but there’s something else you should know.”

Clarke took another sip of water, waiting for Lexa to just get on with it. It wasn’t like this day could get any weirder.

Lexa gazed up at the ceiling and let a long drawn out breath from her lips. When she looked back at Clarke, her face was void of all emotion.

“I cursed half the town to fall in love with you.”


	4. Is This What Magic Feels Like?

“What?” Clarke blinked at Lexa.

“All those people out there, they’re under a love spell. They’re all deliriously in love with you because of magic,” Lexa did her best to keep her voice clear of the overwhelming shame swirling in her stomach.

“Is this your idea of a joke?”

“It’s not a joke. It’s real, and it’s dangerous. Love can be a madness, and people in obsessive love are capable of anything.”

Clarke slammed her water bottle on the countertop and jumped off the stool. She stalked towards Lexa with a terrifying fire burning behind her eyes. “If it’s so dangerous, why the hell did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Lexa had the fleeting thought to back up, to retreat from the intimidating woman approaching. But she held her ground and relaxed a fraction as Clarke stopped a few feet in front of her. 

“All those people came to me for different spells and potions,” Lexa motioned towards the back door. “It was an accident.”

Clarke’s nostrils flared, and Lexa was momentarily impressed that she was able to get out a coherent sentence through her bared teeth. “How do you accidentally make a love spell? Seems pretty intentional to me.”

“The magic backfired,” Lexa squared her shoulders. She was not going to let anyone accuse her of meddling with something so precarious. She’d never deliberately put people in danger. It was fundamentally against everything she loved about magic. “I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“But why, Lexa?” Clarke shouted, throwing her hands in the air wildly. “Why are they all in love with _me_?”

“Because I am!” Lexa scoffed, ignoring the open-mouthed shock on Clarke’s face. The cat was out of the bag, and Lexa was utterly unable to stop the verbal flood now that it had started. 

“You’ve been on my mind since I met you. And because love doesn’t make sense and is just so- It can be completely-” Lexa raked her hands over her face. “Ugh! Every time I cast for someone, somehow, I think of you. Magic is fickle and often has a mind of its own. And here we are. Trapped in your bakery, surrounded by a horde of lovesick morons fighting for your affection.”

Lexa came down from her impressive rant and stilled. Clarke was staring at her, and the breath caught in Lexa’s throat. “Please don’t pour flour over my head.”

*******

Clarke’s world was spinning yet again. But for the first time in forty-eight hours, the declaration of love was a welcome one. Clarke didn’t second-guess her instincts. She didn’t stop to think about the consequences. She just reached her hand up, tangled her fingers in Lexa’s long, wavy hair, and surged forward. She swallowed the surprised little gasp that left Lexa’s lips and kissed her.

Clarke had read hundreds of books by this point in her life. And more often than not, the stories about love had that one moment where the star-crossed lovers kiss for the first time. Authors had a way with words, it was their profession after all, and they always described the kiss in ways that made Clarke’s heart ache to feel even a fraction of that bliss. 

She’d been jealous of them. Of the authors. Because somewhere in her mind, she’d always assumed that they had lived through a kiss like that.

Clarke was no longer jealous.

Through sliding mouths and content hums, through the quivering lips and the hand wrapping around her waist holding her close, Clarke’s entire being felt whole.

This was exactly where she was meant to be, and she was doing exactly what she was meant to be doing with exactly the person she was meant to be with. 

Clarke pulled away slowly, untangling her hand from dark hair and tracing her thumb down to the softest, most luscious lips she’d ever felt. Lexa fluttered her eyes shut and pressed a featherlight kiss to the pad of Clarke’s thumb, pulling a goofy smile from her.

“Is this what magic feels like?” Clarke murmured, her voice rough and deep.

Lexa covered her mouth with her hand, hiding the cutest snort/giggle combination Clarke had ever heard. And yeah, that was definitely a sound she wanted to hear at least once a week for the rest of her life.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa laughed again, her eyes sparkling bright and brilliant. “But that was such a terrible line.”

“Worth it,” Clarke kissed that smirk away. “Made you smile.”

*******

Lexa’s cheeks were beginning to ache, and her brain was finally catching up to the events of the past few minutes. Even though Clarke was still holding her close, even though her lips still tingled, even though she could still taste the rose and citrus chapstick on her tongue, Lexa couldn’t quite accept that this was happening.

She cleared her throat. “Does this mean you aren’t going to drop-kick me out your storefront window?”

Clarke shook her head and tried, yet failed, to hide her grin. “You’re safe from my wrath. For now.” She leaned forward again, and as Lexa inched to meet her, another loud banging sprung them apart. Clarke rushed to the front door with Lexa right on her heels.

“Clarke!” Monty Green tapped on the door. “There you are.” His voice was muffled through the glass, but the intent written on his face was hard to miss.

Clarke rounded on Lexa, pressing her hand to the middle of Lexa’s chest and pushed her back through the kitchen door. “Exactly how many people did you accidentally curse?”

Lexa rubbed her forehead, digging deep into her memory of the past few weeks. October was always so busy, and as she mentally counted all the townsfolk she’d helped, an odd metallic scratching distracted her. 

“Dammit,” Clarke muttered under her breath as she closed the kitchen door. “Apparently, Monty can pick locks.”

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s hand, intent on escaping out the back, but the sound of voices still echoed from the door. Clarke gave their joined hands a tug, and Lexa let her lead them up a narrow set of stairs hidden in the back corner.

Lexa barely had time to admire how expertly the old loft had been converted into a comfortable office. Clarke pulled them through a heavy door and locked it tight behind them.

“Great,” Clarke huffed. “If Monty was able to pick the front door, this one isn’t going to stop him. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?”

But Lexa wasn’t listening. A square patch of the far corner ceiling caught her attention. It was off-kilter, like a puzzle piece that hadn’t been set in place properly. She pulled a wooden chair that was actually much heavier than she anticipated, towards the corner, and winced as it scraped and scratched the rich wood floors. With a little work and a whole lot of dust in her face, she lifted the panel up.

“What’s up there?”

Lexa strained her eyes, peering into the attic space. “It’s too dark.”

Clarke waved her cell phone at Lexa, but instead of taking it, Lexa smirked and shook her head. She snapped her fingers together, and the moment the pop echoed in the office, a small flame burst in her hand. It hovered in her palm, dancing safely over her skin, its magical heat barely noticeable. 

Clarke’s gasp pulled a hearty chuckle from her because it felt so wonderful to be completely free and open in front of someone who wasn’t related to her. Sure, she brewed the occasional potion for a neighbor, or muttered a few words to help ease someone’s anxiety, but nothing like this. She’d never shown anyone the extent of her gift.

Lexa lifted her hand with a barely-there smile. She deposited the flickering flame on the floor of the attic space and held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you up here.” 

Balancing two grown women on the wooden chair was precarious, to say the least, but the forced close proximity didn’t bother Lexa in the slightest. With a nervous mind yet sure hands, Lexa hoisted Clarke up.

With Clarke safely in the attic, Lexa grasped the edges of the opening and jumped. She was strong, but she always forgot just how difficult it was to lift her entire body weight by herself. Her grip slipped a fraction, but Clarke’s steady arms wrapped around her own and pulled. With the extra help, Lexa eased herself up onto the dusty floor. 

She reached her hand back through the square opening and with a casual flick of her wrist, sent the chair sliding back to its original location. Lexa snatched the ceiling panel from the floor and set it perfectly in place, her movements hastened by the rattling of a doorknob.

Lexa let out a deep sigh as she stood and turned, bumping right into Clarke. Lexa steadied her with frantic hands, but before she could mutter an apology, Clarke shook her head. 

“Warn a girl before using your magic, okay? I need to prepare my heart before seeing fire burst from your hand or my chair float across the floor.”

“Sorry,” Lexa grimaced. “I-”

The door below them creaked open, and heavy footsteps and muffled voices let them know that Clarke’s suitors had made their way into the office. 

Lexa pressed her finger to her lips and held out her hand. Clarke took it, and Lexa dipped down to retrieve the magical fire. Its flame danced in her palm, but its heat couldn’t hold a candle to the flush of warmth from the feeling of Clarke’s fingers entangled in her own.

“It looks like most of the buildings on this side of Main Street are linked by this attic,” Lexa whispered, ducking under a low beam. She swatted away a dusty cobweb, being sure to keep it out of Clarke’s hair. “Which means…”

Lexa extinguished the flame and, using the sleeve of her coat, wiped years of dust and dirt from a barely recognizable window. She smiled at Clarke as the morning sun gleamed through the still murky glass. “I always wondered what this fire escape was attached to.” 

Lexa let go of Clarke’s hand and curled her fingers under the windowpane. No matter how hard she pulled or how much she worked the latch, it wouldn’t budge. Years of neglect fused the thing shut. 

Lexa raised her eyebrows and shrugged a single shoulder. “Clarke? I’m going to use magic now.”

She waited for Clarke to nod, and as soon as she did, Lexa opened the window. With a little more noise than she wanted, they descended the rickety old ladder until their feet safely planted on solid ground.

Clarke sighed, her hands on her hips as she stared up at the window they just crawled down from. “This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

Lexa’s heart sunk. She hated that she was the reason for all of Clarke’s distress over the past few days. And on top of half a dozen overly enthusiastic suitors, Clarke could now add shimmy down a questionably safe fire escape to her list of peculiarities. 

“For what it’s worth,” Lexa breathed. “I am deeply sorry all this is happening.”

Clarke dipped her head to the side, studying her with a soft gaze that had Lexa shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. But then Clarke smiled, stepped near enough to wrap her arms around Lexa’s waist, and pulled her tight. Lexa’s hands instinctively fell over Clarke’s shoulders, and her heart pounded with excitement and nerves.

“I appreciate the sentiment-” Clarke inched closer. “But it feels way too strange to be mad at you for falling in love with me since I’ve been falling right with you.”

Clarke tightened her grip ever so slightly, and Lexa’s back arched in response. Just enough to bring them together once more. Lexa melted into the embrace, her fingers curling lightly in Clarke’s soft hair. 

A heartbroken gasp startled Lexa, and she pulled away. Over Clarke’s shoulder, a woman sunk to her knees, a hand gripped over her chest, eyes so full of fire that even standing a hundred feet away didn’t protect her from the burning anger.

“Oh, no.”

*******

Hands still firmly wrapped around Lexa’s waist, Clarke whipped her head to the side, trying to see what had Lexa frozen in worry. 

Sammy Smith kneeled in the middle of Main Street with her eyes not locked on Clarke, but on Lexa. 

“You!” Sammy shouted, her finger pointed threateningly. “How could you?”

At her shout, Nathan Miller rounded the corner, his eyes wild and frightening. He stared at them, and as the penny dropped, his body tensed. He let out a terrifying growl and ran his hands over his scalp in rage. 

“No!” he snarled, his face distorted with wrath. “She’s supposed to be mine!”

Lexa wrapped her hand around Clarke’s and yanked. “Run!” she shouted. 

Clarke didn’t need to be told twice.

They dashed down Main Street, their feet pounding on the cold pavement. Lexa led them through a few quick turns, and as she rounded another corner, Clarke spared a glance behind her. 

“Oh, shit,” she muttered through labored breaths. What looked like the entire group that surrounded the bakery was chasing them, led from a considerable distance by Nate Miller.

Clarke’s lungs burned from sucking in cold air, and if Lexa didn’t have such a commanding grip on her hand, she would have stumbled and fallen ages ago. But the pavement quickly turned to dirt, and she gasped as the buildings around them thinned.

“Where are we going?”

Lexa didn’t even turn. “You’ll be safe at my house,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

And sure enough, the trees parted, and a cozy cottage appeared on the horizon. With their sanctuary in sight, Lexa dipped her head and sprinted faster. But Clarke’s untrained legs couldn’t keep up with the change in pace, and she stumbled, falling to her knees. 

Lexa whirled around. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke groaned, her pride far more damaged than her body. “Just clumsy.” 

Lexa smiled, but her eyes suddenly grew ten times their normal size. She pulled Clarke to her feet and shoved her behind her, using her body to shield Clarke.

Clarke made to step around her, completely unwilling to let Lexa guard her as if she were some helpless woman. But Lexa was way stronger than she looked, and Miller was just a few feet from them. His eyes were trained on Lexa, his fury palpable as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pocket knife. 

“Lexa!” Clarke shouted uselessly as Miller charged.

Lexa shoved her out of the way and turned just in time to hit the ground, hard. She held Miller and his small blade at arm’s length. “Get inside!” Lexa shouted. 

Clarke scoffed as she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Nate’s torso. She pulled with all her might, but Miller shrugged her off as if she weighed nothing more than a cupcake.

The dirt path was, unsurprisingly, a horrible surface to land on and did nothing to absorb her impact. Clarke gasped, struggling to pull in the air that was just uprooted from her lungs. She rolled to her side and stood, despite how much her body protested.

“Nate, this isn’t you,” she choked.

The distraction was all Lexa needed. As Nate locked eyes with Clarke, Lexa kicked her leg up, nailing poor Miller where it counted. He doubled over, and before Clarke could react, Lexa had her hand once again and pulled her onto her front porch. 

Nate recovered quicker than he should have been able to and rushed them, body full of rage. He growled what Clarke could only imagine was his war cry, and she braced herself for impact.

But it didn’t come.

Nathan Miller’s body slammed into an invisible wall. The force catapulted him backwards, and he landed twenty feet away, groaning and coughing.

“Miller!” Lincoln shouted as he appeared behind him, followed by the rest of Clarke’s new fan club. “What were you thinking? You could have hurt Clarke!” Lincoln pulled him to his feet and then promptly shoved him backwards. “No one hurts Clarke.”

Nate stumbled but returned the push nonetheless. “Back off, man!”

“You back off!”

“They’re going to kill each other,” Clarke gaped.

In a flurry of dark hair, Lexa disappeared into her home. The sounds of glasses clinking and drawers opening and closing were replaced by quick footsteps. 

Lexa knelt on her wooden porch, tossing a handful of ingredients into a large metal bowl. Clarke smelled the lime radiating from the white flowers, and the scent of chamomile invaded her senses as Lexa swirled everything together.

She dumped the concoction into a satchel, tying it hastily as she stood. In one fluid motion, Lexa chunked the potion into the middle of the scuffle that now involved the entire group of suitors.

Purple smoke burst into the air, and as it cleared, nothing was left but six adults passed out in front of Lexa’s home. Without a word to Clarke, Lexa dug into her coat pocket and brought her phone to her ear.

“Anya. There’s a situation. Yes, a witchy one. And your girlfriend is involved,” Lexa sighed as she stared at Raven sprawled out on the ground.

Muffled shouts pierced the quiet woods, and even Clarke grimaced as Lexa held the phone far from her ear to avoid the bombardment of profanities directed at her.

When the verbal attack lessened, Lexa pressed on. “Get mad at me later. Right now, I have six people sleeping in front of my house. They won’t remember why they were here, but I need them taken to their homes.” 

Lexa stared at Clarke then, just for a moment. She gave her a soft smile. “It’s complicated,” Lexa muttered before hanging up.

“Anya?” Clarke raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Chief of Police Anya knows you’re a witch?”

“She’s my cousin,” Lexa shrugged sheepishly. “She’s not a witch, but she’ll help get everyone home safe.”

Lexa turned to walk inside, but Clarke wasn’t ready to let her go that easily. “What the hell is going on?” Clarke grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around on the spot. “Why are they suddenly so violent? This morning they just wanted my attention.”

“Because _I_ have your attention. Your affection. Sammy Smith saw us kiss on the street. And Nate Miller figured it out.”

“You’re telling me that because I chose you, they’re turning into psychos?”

“Love can drive people mad. I’ve read about it. My grandmother’s accounts are very descriptive,” Lexa grimaced. “And the longer someone is under a curse like this, the more intensely its effects are felt.”

She looked up then, and judging by how quickly she moved forward and wrapped Clarke up in a tight embrace, Clarke must have looked as exhausted and terrified as she felt. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back reassuringly. “I will fix this. I promise.”

Lexa pulled back at Clarke’s fervent nod. As she reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear, a flash of red caught all of her attention.

“Your hand!” Clarke shrieked, pulling Lexa’s injured palm towards her.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!” Clarke leveled her with an exasperated glare. “Please tell me you have crazy healing powers.”


	5. That Inevitable Pull of Magic

Lexa leaned her hip against her desk, not bothering to hide her grin as Clarke marveled at her recherché of magical herbs and books. Her palm throbbed from where Miller’s pocket knife stabbed her during their scuffle, but the pain was the last thing on her mind.

Clarke was staring at her with wonder and excitement. For months, Lexa dreamed about telling Clarke who she really was, and in none of them did Clarke react with fascination.

Her hand gave another throb, and Lexa pushed herself off the desk. She wordlessly stood next to Clarke, pulling a few jars off the shelves.

“Adder’s tongue, goldenseal, arnica, a touch of yarrow,” Lexa dictated, aware that Clarke was watching her every move. She muddled the mixture of plants together, and the mess of ingredients soon turned into a thick paste.

Lexa dipped her good hand into the bowl, gathering a hefty amount of the salve on her fingers and delicately applied it to her wound. Clarke looked on, enraptured, and when it was time to wrap her cut, Clarke snatched the bandage and did it for her.

“How long will it take to heal?”

“A few hours if I concentrate,” Lexa smiled as Clarke kissed her expertly wrapped hand. “It’s just a minor wound.”

Clarke covered her mouth, stifling her laugh.

“What?” Lexa wondered.

“It’s just-” Clarke shrugged, blinking faster than a hummingbird. “You’re a witch.”

Lexa did nothing to hide her wide grin.

They stood in silence, taking a moment to relax after a whirlwind hour. And what an hour it had been. Lexa had gone from being absolutely sure that Clarke would never return her affections to having kissed said woman of her dreams several times. And now she was standing there, staring back at her with so much tenderness Lexa was pretty sure she wouldn’t need to use her own magic if she wanted to fly.

“So, what are we going to do about them?” Clarke broke the spell.

“There’s a cure,” Lexa cleared her throat. “An anti-love potion potion.”

“Perfect!” Clarke’s voice was two octaves too high. “Let’s get started!”

“Eager to be rid of your suitors?”

Clarke dipped her chin and smirked. She leaned close, gingerly tapping Lexa’s nose. “There’s only one I want.”

Despite the rapid beat of her heart and the flutter of her stomach, Lexa crossed her arms. “If you had told me that a few weeks ago, none of this would have happened.”

Clarke shook her head and teased, “It’s not like you were exactly forthcoming in the feelings department.”

“I didn’t think-” Lexa paused, aware she was about to shift the mood. She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled softly. “People are frightened of what they don’t understand.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

Lexa could barely breathe, let alone respond. And Clarke, the wonderful person that she was, picked up on Lexa’s sudden overwhelmed predicament and changed the subject. “So how about that anti-love potion potion?”

“I should have everything we need here,” Lexa gestured to her shelves. “We just need a way to get them to drink it.”

“Do they have to drink it?”

“Drink it, eat it. One of the two.”

“I could bake it into something. Would that work?” Clarke’s eyes danced with anticipation. “What’s in it? What will it taste like?”

Lexa ran her hand along the spines of her spell books, catching one with her fingers. She flipped through the pages with conviction, confident that she would stop on the exact page she needed. “Snapdragon flowers, sea salt, sage, yucca, and some magic words.” Lexa snapped the book shut.

“That’s it?” Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“That’s it.”

“What does snapdragon taste like?”

Lexa handed over a soft pink flower. Its petals twinkled with fresh dew as if she just plucked it from a garden rather than a jar on her shelf.

Clarke brought the bloom to her nose, inhaling the scent before popping it in her mouth. “Hmm, not the best, not the worst. I bet I can mask this.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Apricot-sage shortbread. The sweetness of the apricot should cover the sorta bitter snapdragon. And yucca? Let’s just hope it cooks mild enough. Which I think it will. Guess we’ll find out.”

Lexa nodded, yet she couldn’t meet Clarke’s eyes. The potion should hide well enough in a cookie, but there was a big obstacle standing in their way. Lexa worried her bottom lip. “How are we going to get everyone to eat these?”

“They want my affection, right?” Clarke shrugged with a mischievous smirk. “They’ll come by the bakery, and I’ll just use my natural magic to get them to taste one. Worked on you.”

Lexa’s cheeks flushed furiously with that call out. “Okay, but-”

“But what?”

Lexa exhaled, and in one long breath, she rambled, “I don’t know how many people have been cursed. We’ll need almost everyone in town to eat one to be sure the curse is eradicated.”

“Everyone?”

“October is a busy time for me,” Lexa grimaced. “I must’ve had at least thirty clients this month. And I don’t keep a ledger. Although, I suppose I really ought to.”

“You really should,” Clarke sighed. Her gleeful mood turned somber as she paced back and forth in front of Lexa’s desk. “Okay, we can figure this out. We just need a reason for the entire town to eat a cookie.”

“The Stoney Falls Fall Fair,” Lexa gasped. “It’s perfect.”

“What about the Stoney Falls Fall Fair? Seriously,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Who came up with that name?”

“It’s tomorrow, and you have a booth there,” Lexa ignored Clarke’s mindless ramble about the admittedly uninspired name. “Clarke! The whole town shows up to the Falls Fall Fair. You could give out free samples.”

“That could work.”

“Of course it will.”

“Alright,” Clarke grinned, her optimistic demeanor back in full force. “Now I just need to bake several hundred cookies in less than eighteen hours.”

*******

Clarke wrapped the freshly cut sage leaves in a damp towel and tucked them into Lexa’s bag. She ran her hand delicately along the top of the rosemary bush next to her, admiring its full leaves and delicate blooms.

Lexa’s garden was a wonder. Even in the beginnings of fall, the temperature seemed to regulate near the plants providing the perfect climate for everything.

A butterfly landed on a tuft of delicate white flowers that smelled faintly of licorice. Clarke leaned over and held out her hand, and the monarch fluttered lazily onto her finger.

“Got everything you need?”

Clarke jumped and turned around. “Yes,” she smiled at Lexa, watching the butterfly float away. “Your garden is perfect. Even when things shouldn’t be in bloom, they are.”

Lexa hid her proud grin as best she could, but Clarke could see right through her.

“Here-” Lexa held out a small pouch the size of an oreo hanging off an intricately braided leather cord. She looped it around Clarke’s neck, and Clarke was hit with a myriad of scents, all pleasant herbs.

“What’s this?”

“A protection charm.” Lexa adjusted the length of leather so the pouch hung perfectly centered against Clarke’s chest. Her fingers brushed the top of Clarke’s breast, and she backed away with the pinkest of cheeks. “Just in case.”

“What about you?” Clarke struggled to not tease Lexa’s adorable flush. “You’re the one who they attacked.”

Lexa smirked, her momentary embarrassment long gone, and pulled an honest to god pointed witch’s hat from behind her back.

“You’re joking.”

Lexa winked and placed the hat perfectly on her dark hair. Clarke had never seen her more at ease in the six months she’d known her, and that smile made Clarke fall even harder than she already had.

“As adorable as you look right now, I don’t see how this is going to protect you from the crazies.”

“I enchanted the hat to mask my identity.”

“Hate to burst your magic bubble, but I can still tell who you are.”

“It won’t work on you.” Lexa tapped the satchel hanging from Clarke’s neck. “Shields you from magic as well as danger.”

Clarke lifted the necklace over her head, and Lexa instantly disappeared. It was bizarre. She knew she was standing right in front of Lexa, but for the life of her, she couldn’t make out a single feature. Not her soft, wavy hair, not the sharp angle of her jaw, not even those soulful eyes Clarke had come to love. Nothing was recognizable, not even her voice.

“Holy shit,” Clarke mumbled as she slipped the necklace back on. When the leather touched her skin, Lexa’s beautiful smile came rushing back into focus, and Clarke couldn’t help herself. She reached up and traced every inch of Lexa’s face. “That’s a trip and a half.”

As her finger brushed over Lexa’s parted lips, Clarke’s brain caught up to her body’s involuntary reaction. She blushed and stepped away, muttering, “We should get going.”

Lexa nodded, fluttering her eyes open, apparently as lost in the touches as Clarke was. “Lots of cookies to bake, very small span to do it in.”

“You’re telling me you can’t alter time?” Clarke teased. “What kind of witch are you?”

Lexa pulled her shoulders back, stood up taller, and straightened her hat. She beamed, pure and proud. “Just your average basic witch.”

Clarke burst out laughing.

“What?” Lexa chuckled back.

Clarke just gestured to all of Lexa. A flannel shirt poked out under her cozy sweater, and dark skinny jeans tucked into rich brown boots. She was the most beautiful basic bitch witch Clarke had ever seen.

“What?” Lexa repeated, quickly turning from confident to anxious.

Clarke kissed her worry away. She held out her hand and waited for Lexa to curl their fingers together. “You’re just gorgeous. That’s all. Let’s go.”

*******

The bakery was empty. Other than the unlocked front door, no other sign of Clarke’s amorous horde remained. The sleep potion Lexa cast should be in effect for a few more hours, and after locking the front and back doors, magically this time, the couple gathered in the kitchen.

Working side by side in the most comfortable silence Lexa had ever had the privilege to experience, she brewed her anti-love potion potion as Clarke mixed the first batch of cookie dough.

The potion simmered slowly, infusing the liquid with the necessary magical properties, and when it reached the perfect thick consistency, Lexa muttered her spell.

“Cu focul te eliberam. Cu focul se închide.”

A burst of flames erupted from the pot, and as the smoke cleared, the potion faded from an unappetizing murky brown to a colorless mush.

“Why are spells always in Latin?”

Lexa gave the potion a few final stirs before turning off the burner. “Romanian.”

“You speak Romanian?” Clarke gaped as she wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron.

“Sort of.” Lexa spooned a small portion into a bowl. “Spellwork can be cast in any language. But sometimes it’s more powerful in a certain one. This particular spell-” Lexa handed over the potion, smiling as her finger brushed against Clarke’s. “Works best in Romanian. Maybe it has to do with the Romani people. They often make very powerful witches.”

Lexa hopped up onto a nearby counter as Clarke gaped at her. After a moment and a soft smile, Clarke seemed to compose herself and turned back to the job at hand. She kneaded the shortbread dough back and forth, and Lexa sat in awe of how fluid and graceful Clarke’s movements were.

Magic was rare and brilliant, and Lexa understood people’s fascination and wonder with it. But there was something to be said about watching a person perform a task they so clearly loved. Clarke looked so at peace as the dough molded under her hands. She made baking beautiful, and Lexa was keen enough to recognize natural magic when she saw it.

With the cookies cooking away in the oven, Clarke got to work on the apricot jam. Lexa offered up her services, but with a confident wink that made Lexa’s heart flutter, Clarke shook her head. “You just keep sitting up there looking pretty. You did your job. Time for me to do mine.”

While the jam simmered, Clarke carefully folded in the bit of potion. As the scent of yucca and snapdragon melted away into the sweet aroma of sage and apricot, Lexa couldn’t help but smile. This was actually going to work.

After a twenty-five minute trip in the oven, the shortbread sat cooling on a wire rack, waiting for their potion-laced apricot jam filling. Clarke smothered a dollop of fruit spread on, and after sandwiching another cookie on top, she turned it over in her hand.

“Will it be safe to taste? For us, I mean? You won’t fall out of love with me if you eat it, will you?”

Lexa hopped off the counter, and with nothing but a smile, leaned down to take a bite of the treat. She didn’t miss the gasp of air stuck in Clarke’s throat or the way the shortbread trembled in Clarke’s hand, and she certainly didn’t miss the dip of her throat as Lexa licked her lips and chewed.

Lexa had half a mind to tease the flustered Clarke, but when the perfectly balanced savory and sweet flavors burst on her tongue, Lexa only moaned. “Oh, this is good.”

*******

Clarke kept sneaking glances at Lexa as they packaged up the hundreds of apricot filled shortbread cookies. There was something about the way she smiled so freely, and the way her confidence seemed to soar that forced Clarke to stare.

A deep pang thundered behind her heart as she realized why.

Clarke would bet her bakery that this was the first time in Lexa’s life that she was truly herself outside her home. She caught Lexa’s gaze then, and as if Lexa could read her mind, she flicked her finger, and the box of treats they just sealed up rose into the air and floated gently to the corner counter.

“I thought I told you to warn me before taking my breath away.” Clarke snaked her arms around Lexa’s middle.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lexa kissed the tip of Clarke’s nose. “We’re out of boxes. Where are the extras?”

Clarke squeezed Lexa once before letting her go and pointed to the back storage room. “Shelves against the back wall. On the top.”

“I’ll be right back,” Lexa grinned and twirled away.

Clarke’s cheeks ached from smiling so much. She and Lexa had spent the entire day together, and after that mess of a morning, it had been full of laughter and flirty looks, of stolen kisses and cookies. And Clarke couldn’t remember a time she had been happier.

She dumped a few empty cooling racks into the oversized sink and had just gotten started on washing them up when her stomach sank. She turned off the water, clutching her heart.

Clarke screwed her eyes up in pain as she rubbed her chest. Dread. That was the best word she could use to describe the feeling aching in her heart.

She spun around, gripping the sink behind her to steady her weak knees. When she finally opened her eyes, she had to cover her mouth to stifle her gasp.

Lexa walked backwards, one step at a time, her hands raised and her gaze trained on the manic figure in front of her.

Sammy Smith, or the ghost of Sammy Smith, rubbed at her bloodshot eyes with the back of her hand. The hand that held one of Clarke’s butcher knives.

Clarke froze. Her eyes darted from Sammy’s erratic figure to Lexa’s steady one, and she was pretty certain Sammy hadn’t seen her yet. Clarke’s brain raced, trying to correctly guess the right course of action. She could reveal herself, hoping that Sammy wouldn’t hurt the object of her heart’s desire. Or she could hide and let Lexa handle the situation.

But Lexa made the decision for her. She snuck one of her hands behind her back and gestured for Clarke to hold still.

“Ms. Smith. Sammy,” Lexa pleaded with her, keeping her voice calm and soothing. “Put the knife down.”

But Clarke was nothing if not a stubborn moron in times like this. So she ignored Lexa’s request and stepped towards Sammy.

Clarke swatted away Lexa’s attempt to grab her and pull her back. “Good evening, Ms. Smith. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Not entirely insane, Clarke stopped a good few feet away from Sammy. The knife glimmered under her bakery lights, and Clarke swallowed down her fear before pressing on. “You know I have a whole booth at the fair. Free cookies for everyone as a thank you for welcoming me to the town.”

Sammy’s usual warm dark brown eyes looked like black voids as she quivered. “It’s you. You’re here.”

“Of course I am. It’s my bakery,” Clarke smiled. She had to fight her instinct to tremble, but she took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Lexa’s whole body seemed to spark. Clarke locked eyes with her and pleaded silently to trust her.

Lexa relaxed just a fraction, and Clarke turned back to the delirious librarian shaking in front of her. “What are you doing here, Sammy?”

Sammy’s stuttered inhale cut through the tense atmosphere, and the deep tear tracks on her cheeks scrunched as she sobbed. “I- I dream of you all night. And when I wake up, you’re still all I can think about,” her voice suddenly dropped, and the sobs were replaced with a terrifying intensity. “You take up every spare moment of my mind. You are my one and only thought.”

Sammy waved the knife around, mad as a cut snake. She leveled it at Clarke, jabbing it through the air. Clarke jumped back, and a strong arm shot in front of her. Lexa stood by her side, half her body in front of Clarke, protecting her.

“You are my everything.” Sammy’s eyes narrowed on Lexa, but in place of rage like Miller this morning, Clarke saw nothing but sorrow. “But I’m less than nothing.” The words lacked any emotion. Just a statement that Sammy believed to be as true the air in her lungs. “You don’t see me. You never have.”

“Sammy-” Clarke’s step forward was halted by Lexa’s strong arm.

“And if I can’t have you,” Sammy shook her head. She stared at the floor, gathering strength. When she looked up again, her eyes were trained on Lexa like a bird of prey locked on a mouse. Her voice was harsh as her muscles tensed. “No one can.”

Sammy lunged forward, knife drawn back. Clarke reacted without thinking. She threw her body in front of Lexa, screwed up her face, and waited for the inevitable sharp pain.

A rush of wind and a bright light blinded Clarke. A sickening thump reverberated off the bakery walls, and Clarke peeked one eye open.

Sammy sprawled out flat on the floor, her face soft in slumber. The knife lay a safe couple of dozen feet away from her prone body.

“Clarke!” Lexa wrapped her up in a tight embrace. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” Clarke hugged Lexa back. “What happened?”

Lexa pulled out of the embrace and dipped her gaze to the leather pouch draped from Clarke’s neck.

“Your magic protected me?”

“After you decided to play hero.”

Clarke ignored Lexa’s wet and watery eyes, unable to stare into them without losing it herself. “Is Sammy okay?”

Lexa turned around and pressed her fingers to Sammy’s pulse point. “She’s fine. Or she will be once we get the potion in her.”

Clarke’s heart beat wildly. “Is this going to happen to all of them?”

“Love affects people differently. And this isn’t just love. It’s manic, maddening,” Lexa reached out and laid a soothing hand on Clarke’s arm. “Sammy quite literally isn’t herself right now.”

After a sad smile, Lexa let go and pressed her whole palm to Sammy’s temple. She muttered a few words under her breath.

“What are you doing?” Clarke gaped as Lexa finished whispering her enchantment.

“Making her forget the past few minutes.”

Lexa stood and retrieved her hat and a single apricot-sage cookie. She placed the hat comfortably on her head, and Clarke took the shortbread she held out.

“She’ll be a little out of it when she comes to. Convince her to try it as quickly as possible.”

With no time for Clarke to question her, Lexa roused Sammy from her sleep. Sammy blinked rapidly, her gaze flitting from Lexa to Clarke. “Clarke?” Sammy struggled to sit up. Her eyes flew wide open, and her chest heaved. “What-”

“Would you mind doing a little taste test for me?” Clarke smiled, trying her best to keep her tone light. “I just finished baking a whole bunch of cookies for tomorrow.”

Clarke handed it over. Sammy’s trembling fingers took it from her, confusion written all over her anxious face.

“So, it’s an apricot-sage shortbread,” Clarke coaxed again. “Let me know what you think.”

Sammy nodded as she took a tentative bite. She awkwardly reached for Clarke’s hand, and Clarke couldn’t deny her the comfort. She laced their fingers together and squeezed it back. Sammy beamed.

“Anything created by you is sure to be the best thing.”

Sammy’s eyes suddenly glazed over. She shook her head as if she was desperate to remember something. “It’s-” She cleared her throat, staring at the floor, lost in her thoughts.

“Ms. Smith?” Clarke gave their joined hands a little tug. “Sammy, are you okay?”

Sammy suddenly pulled away from her grip and stood. Clarke scrambled to her feet, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Sammy’s shoulder. But she shirked away.

“I’m so sorry,” Sammy shook her head again, looking anywhere but at Clarke.

“For what?”

“I just have this awful feeling that I need to apologize,” she stared at her feet, her shoulders dropped in remorse. “I’m not sure what for, but will you forgive me for any impudicity that I may have-”

“It’s okay,” Clarke interrupted. The pain and confusion etched on Sammy’s face were heartbreaking enough. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“This is a nice treat,” Sammy mumbled, waving the half-eaten shortbread through the air. She kept her eyes glued to the floor as she shuffled towards the exit. “Everyone will love it. Tomorrow. Goodnight, Clarke.” Sammy didn’t even glance backwards as she beelined out the front door.

“I guess it worked,” Clarke sighed as she retrieved the fallen butcher knife. She tossed it in the sink with the rest of the dirty bakeware. “She didn’t even remember the curse. Will they all forget?”

Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke, leaning her chin on Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke pulled her tighter, perfectly content to take comfort in her Lexa shaped cloak.

“It’ll be like a dream. They’ll have a feeling, but the more time that passes, the less they’ll remember.”

Clarke turned around in the hold, draping her arms around Lexa’s shoulders. “I’m glad they won’t remember. I don’t want Sammy to remember.”

“You’re a good person, Clarke.” Lexa pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “It’s getting late.”

“Long day tomorrow,” Clarke shrugged. “We should head back to your house.”

“We?”

Lexa looked so relieved, Clarke couldn’t help but kiss her softly. “Like I’m staying alone after what just happened.”

*******

Lexa gathered a clean pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt, taking a little extra time than necessary to calm her racing heart. She was so incredibly thankful that Clarke offered to stay at her place tonight. It saved her from potentially making a fool of herself as she was about to beg Clarke to do that very thing.

But now, she had the woman she was in love with sitting on her bed, and Lexa struggled to calm her nearly shaking body. She handed over the pajamas with a soft smile. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard. Make yourself at home, and if you need anything, I’ll just be in the living room.”

Lexa gave Clarke the quickest kiss, her cheeks blushing an embarrassing red before making a hasty retreat.

She had just snuggled down into her couch when the floorboards creaked behind her.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

“You’re right, you’re not,” Lexa sat up, her breath catching at the sight of Clarke wearing her clothes. She had to wet her suddenly dry mouth before continuing, her voice still a little scratchy. “I’m offering. There is no kicking involved.”

“Lexa.”

Lexa stared deep into Clarke’s sure eyes, unwilling to let herself entertain the possibility of sleeping next to Clarke so early in their relationship. But there Clarke was, holding out her hand, waiting for Lexa to take it.

“Are you sure?”

“Chivalrous intentions duly noted,” Clarke smirked. “Now would you just get into bed? Please?”

Lexa wrapped their hands together and led them back into her bedroom. She slipped into her side, and after flicking off the bedside lamp, turned to face Clarke.

She was close. So close Lexa could smell the mint on her breath from the toothpaste she just used.

That inevitable pull of magic drew them together, and the kiss was slow but full of everything. When Lexa first met Clarke, when she first felt that wave of serenity in her presence, she knew. But she fought it.

She fought against that very pull for months because she couldn’t bear the thought of Clarke not feeling the same way. And in this kiss, Lexa realized that all her insecurities were foolish. Magic always knew, and Lexa really just needed to listen.


	6. Can't Deny This Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who picked up on the Practical Magic vibes, you were spot on. I listened to that soundtrack nonstop while writing this fic, and there is one song in particular that is positively perfect for the last third of this chapter. So if you at all enjoy listening to music while reading and want a little something extra with the end here, I highly suggest you pop on “Amas Veritas” by Alan Silvestri and repeat that baby until the end of the fic! I’ll put a little note in the chapter when you should start it.   
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5PoPHCtgaM  
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/20iP6vxSoQRgq00W2hHKn9?si=nqCa2z51SESXkDCHTNAQ_g

“Enjoy!” Clarke beamed and waved away another happy customer. She sat back in the hard metal folding chair, groaning as her tired feet got a much-needed mini-break. She dropped her voice and muttered to the figure hovering just behind her. “Seems like the cookies are a hit.”

“That’s because you’re exceptional, Clarke,” Lexa squeezed Clarke’s shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Stoney Falls would be far less appealing without you.”

“Was that a compliment about me personally or my baking skills?”

“Both.”

Murphy let out an exasperated groan, earning him a scathing look from Clarke. “Yeah, we get it,” he drawled. “Clarke’s awesome. I don’t need to hear it every two seconds from whoever you are and every other person who walks up to this tent.” 

He stared towards Lexa, narrowing his eyes, and Lexa subconsciously adjusted her hat, pulling it down farther onto her head. “So, who are you again?”

“Hey, Murphy,” Clarke cleared her throat. “We’re running low on business cards. Be a dear, and run back to the shop. There’s another box in my office.”

Murphy tilted his head from side to side, his eyes focusing and narrowing on Lexa. He took a step towards her, and Clarke could feel Lexa’s entire body prickle with unease.

Clarke stood, putting her body directly in-between Murphy and the woman he couldn’t recognize. “Now,” she commanded.

“Fine. I’m getting bored with everyone fawning over you anyway.” He took one final glare in Lexa’s direction and slumped off with a huff.

Clarke watched him leave, and when he was safely out of sight, she wrapped her arms around Lexa and leaned in for a kiss.

Lexa gracefully removed her arms and shook her head. “Probably best to save that until everyone has had the anti-love potion potion.”

“Good call,” Clarke popped the brim of Lexa’s hat playfully. “I don’t think I could handle seeing you get stabbed and almost stabbed again.”

“Stabbed? Who was stabbed?”

Clarke whirled around and was suddenly face to face with an overly happy Harper McIntyre, who freaking winked at her. “Other than me through the heart with your beauty.”

“Harper, no,” Monty appeared at her side. He smiled that boyish grin of his. “Clarke’s beauty isn’t a weapon. It’s the cure. Her grace alone could rid the world of all its horrible ailments.” 

He moved to shake Clarke’s hand, and as soon as Clarke extended hers, he pulled it close and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Hello, Clarke.”

“Hi, Monty,” Clarke retrieved her hand, wiping the back of it on her sweater before graciously accepting the two cookies Lexa held out. Clarke thrust them towards her admirers. “Try one of my cookies! Free for all Stoney Falls Fall Fair attendees.”

“That’s so sweet!” Monty praised as he took his treat. “Harper, isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard? Free cookies. Wow!”

“I always knew Clarke was the sweetest,” Harper grumbled as she took a bite of shortbread. “She’s the most…”

“I…” Monty fluttered his eyes and took a steadying step backwards. Harper shook her head, ridding her mind of the last bit of love spell, and as her gaze caught Clarke’s, her cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Oh! Look!” Monty shouted, slamming his eyes shut. He fumbled in his blindness for Harper’s hand, and when he finally found it, eyes still closed tight, he turned them both around. “Oh, look,” he pointed at the pumpkin carving booth. “There’s a caramel apple stand over there!” 

Monty and Harper disappeared into the crowd, and Clarke silently hoped that Monty would open his eyes before they walked right into a garbage can or something. But once out of such close proximity to her, the couple seemed to calm themselves, leaving an exhausted Clarke to wait for the next flirtatious encounter. 

She didn’t have to wait long.

The Chief of Police barreled through the sea of people, dragging a giggling Raven Reyes behind her. Anya crossed her arms as Raven leaned her hip on the table. “Clarke Griffin.”

“Chief. Good morning.”

“This one hasn’t stopped talking about you for two days,” she jabbed her thumb towards Raven, who was practically smoldering as she wiggled her eyebrows in Clarke’s direction. “Perhaps you or my cousin can stamp out her obsession.”

“I think we have exactly what you need.” Lexa handed a cookie to Anya.

“Oh, good.” Anya forced the shortbread into Raven’s hand. She stared at Lexa, scrutinizing her unreadable face. And just when she leaned forward, just when her hand reached forward to touch, Raven hummed.

“Did you make these, Clarke?” she batted her eyelashes. “They smell delectable.”

“New recipe,” Clarke nodded. “It’s extra special.”

“New and extra special, huh? Would that be because up until now, you’ve been missing _your_ special ingredient?” Raven bit her lip as she not so subtlety ran a hand down her curves and popped her hip out seductively.

Anya looked as if she was ready to kill Raven. Or maybe Clarke. “Oh, for fuck’s sake-” Anya grabbed Raven’s hand and guided it to her mouth. “Just eat the damn cookie.”

Raven obliged, and after the now expected moment of pure mortification and confusion, sulked away with Anya chasing after her.

With the couple out of sight, Clarke sidled up to Lexa, squeezing her hand. “I feel kinda bad that no one recognizes you. You’re basically just a stunning statue back here that only I can admire.”

“It’s for the best,” Lexa smiled back. “It’s only for today. And then we can…” Lexa glanced wistfully down at their joined hands.

“Parade our love around for the whole town to see?”

“Something like that,” Lexa smirked.

*******

The day passed in a blur. Every single person who could have possibly been dosed with Lexa’s accidental love spell had stopped by Bread & Butter’s booth, whether they originally intended to or not. 

Finn had eaten a cookie and proceeded to quite literally run away. Nathan Miller tried to give Clarke a kiss, but she stuffed a cookie into his parted lips instead. 

The most dramatic thing to have occurred was Lincoln running headfirst into a light pole as he tried to sidestep around a group of teenagers in his haste to reach Clarke. He knocked himself out cold for a good thirty seconds, but after a sweet treat, he was back to his quiet and kind self, apologizing profusely to a very agitated Octavia.

“We just have to toss this trash and take all the leftovers back to the bakery. They said they’ll handle the tables and chairs.”

Clarke’s voice snapped Lexa from her thoughts, and she gathered the trash bag from Clarke. “I got this. You finish packing up.”

Clarke’s answering smile was warm and inviting, and despite the town square not being completely vacant yet, Lexa leaned in. Clarke tried to pull her closer, to turn the sweet kiss into something far less innocent, but Lexa merely smirked and sauntered off with the bag of rubbish.

After tossing the trash, Lexa strolled through the disassembling fair, keeping to herself as she usually did, but halfway back to Clarke’s booth, she froze.

Sammy Smith was smiling and waving at her from across the lamplit road. Lexa reached up, intent on pulling her hat down lower, and grimaced when she remembered that Clarke took it from her before they started packing up, mumbling something about the world having been denied her beauty for long enough.

Lexa readied herself for a confrontation, but as Sammy approached, she sensed nothing threatening about her posture. 

“Hello, Lexa.” Sammy stopped in front of Lexa, her arms halfway up, and after an awkward little dance, Sammy chuckled and wrapped Lexa up in a sweet but quick hug. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the draft of confidence,” Sammy whispered, smiling over her shoulder. Lexa followed her gaze. A very tall, very intimidating man who she recognized as Stoney Falls’ one and only preschool teacher stood waiting under a lamp post. Sammy wiggled her fingers, and Gustus smiled back.

“We’re headed to dinner. Our first date is going very well, and I would never have had the confidence to ask him if it wasn’t for you.”

Lexa nodded, offering the librarian a sincere smile.

“I should be going,” Sammy took a few steps away but suddenly turned. “Oh, and tell Clarke I told her everyone would love the cookies. They were the talk of the fair!”

*******

Clarke ran up to Lexa, wrapping her arms around the witch. The day was done, the spell was broken, and Clarke wanted nothing more than to kiss Lexa in the way she hadn’t been able to all day.

But Lexa leaned back and avoided Clarke’s lips with annoying grace.

Clarke traced Lexa’s jaw with her fingertips. She smiled as her hand trailed down to Lexa’s collarbone. “I don’t care who sees.”

“Clarke-”

“Lexa, you feel it-” Clarke pressed her palm to Lexa’s beating heart. The steady cadence faltered a fraction, but soon enough, it regulated. Clarke kept her hand there, and that tingle that made the hairs on the back of her hand dance engulfed her. She’d felt it once before, last night when she kissed Lexa before falling asleep in her arms. It was a feeling she just knew would soon become an all too familiar one.

“We’re free,” Clarke whispered. 

“But what if-”

Clarke pressed her finger to Lexa’s lips. “I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t deny this magic any longer.”

They kissed and let the world watch.

******

_ (Play “Amas Veritas” by Alan Silvestri) _

“Aww, Lexa, you promised!”

“Clarke,” Lexa huffed as she stared at the hat hanging limply in her hands.

“Come on, you wore it for a whole day a few weeks ago,” Clarke pouted. “One more night won’t kill you.”

Lexa sighed, but she couldn’t say no to Clarke’s roaring, brilliant grin even if she tried. So she plopped her pointed hat on her head and pouted.

“You have no idea how cute you are in this, do you?” Clarke wrapped her up and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“You think it’s cute?”

“The cutest.” Clarke leaned closer, kissing her lightly. “And it’s essential. You’ve got to look the part.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, and Clarke flicked the brim playfully. “You took the enchantment off, right?” 

“What kind of witch do you take me for?” Lexa scoffed half-heartedly. “Certainly not the type who leaves spells lying around all willy nilly.”

“Just making sure.” Clarke’s cheeks glowed, and the silly little grin on her lips reached all the way to her glittering eyes. “Stoney Falls needs to see you how I do.”

Lexa stared out her open front door, her eyes landing on a few of the hundreds of townsfolk lining the mile-long dirt road leading from her front porch into town. The sun had set a few minutes ago, and it seemed as if half of Stoney Falls waited for her.

It was all Clarke’s idea. She planned this whole thing. She and Murphy, the latter more begrudgingly than anything else, took the entire day to line the path with the pumpkins Raven’s students and the dozens of other volunteers carved. There had to be at least one hundred and fifty dark jack-o-lanterns dotting the road.

Clarke spread the word with the help of Sammy Smith and her new beau, and now Lexa stood, staring out her door as children donned costumes and adults mingled in front of her home.

“Are you ready?”

Lexa accepted Clarke’s outstretched hand. “I don’t know.”

“They’ll love it. They love you, Lexa,” Clarke gave her hand a squeeze. “It may have taken them hundreds of years to figure it out, but Stoney Falls finally knows how awesome it is to have a witch in town.”

Lexa leaned forward and captured Clarke in a kiss. Clarke pulled away and inched towards the door, and Lexa held onto her hand as long as she could until she was too far out of reach.

Lexa waited, closing her eyes to gather some of the confidence Clarke seemed to have in her. After giving Clarke enough time to find her friends in the mass of townsfolk, Lexa took a final deep breath and stepped out onto her porch.

The crowd’s murmurs grew eerily silent as they took her in. She stood, clad in her usual fall wardrobe, but at Clarke’s insistence for a little flair, a warm wool cloak wrapped around her shoulders, and her pointed hat rested on her long waves.

Lexa found her in the crowd, standing next to Octavia and Lincoln. Clarke grinned back at her, and with a little nod of assurance from her loving girlfriend, Lexa took a final deep breath and raised her hands in the air. With dramatically slow purpose, Lexa turned her palms up towards the dark sky.

She paused for a moment, letting the throng of rapt neighbors build up the anticipation their minds created. Lexa sent a quiet little wink towards Clarke and snapped her fingers together on both hands.

The hundreds of jack-o-lanterns that lined the dirt road illuminated in a cascade of light. 

The path from her home into town flickered warmly in the firelight, and for the first time in her life, it had never felt more welcome.

A collective gasp echoed against the trees that quickly turned to unadulterated glee. The children whooped and hollered, giggling as they ran up and down the road, inspecting the pumpkins and showing off the ones they carved when they spotted them. Even the adults marveled at the sight, their eyes twinkling and blanketing the path with childlike wonder. 

Clarke rushed towards Lexa, taking the few steps up to the porch in a single leap. Lexa caught her and pulled her into a warm hug.

“I can’t believe I just used magic in front of the whole town,” Lexa mumbled into Clarke’s blonde hair.

“Only half of them believe it’s real.”

Lexa laughed as Clarke pulled away. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Yes,” Clarke nodded. “Those who want to believe in the wonder, the excitement, the pure joy of knowing there is something out there bigger than they are. Yeah, you just made their night. Look at those smiles.”

Lexa glanced around her front yard. The people of Stoney Falls laughed and munched on treats they bought from Bread & Butter’s pop-up tent. They pointed and gasped at the sight of the pumpkins twinkling in the darkness. And Clarke was almost right. 

Almost nothing compared to the joy emanating from the townsfolk. The only thing more bewitching than Stoney Falls’ glee was Clarke’s smile as she stared at Lexa. Now, that was more magical than anything Lexa could have done with a snap of her fingers.

“Happy Halloween, Lexa.”

Clarke nuzzled her head into the crook of Lexa’s neck, and Lexa held her tight.

“Happy Halloween, Clarke.”

*******

If anyone were to ask what the best part of that first annual Stoney Falls Pumpkin Luminary Festival was, a few would say the jack-o-lanterns, even less would gush about the treats. No, most people wouldn’t recall either of those things at all. 

When asked, the people of Stoney Falls would talk about resident supposed witch Lexa Woods and her baker extraordinaire wife, Clarke Griffin. They would recount how way back when, before they were even married, the couple kissed as the pumpkins fluttered firelight on the road. They kissed, and their feet hovered above the ground. They kissed, and according to everyone surrounding them, they could fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the kind words and comments. I read each and every one, laughing and smiling as I did so. Y’all are truly the best!!!  
Happy Halloween!


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